


inultus (unpunished)

by shizuruu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Artist Kyungsoo, Death, M/M, Murder, Poet Jongin, au set in modern age prague, handjobs, homeless jongin, lapslock, weird pretentious sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 17:50:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6161560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shizuruu/pseuds/shizuruu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kyungsoo is only spending his winter in prague to get some inspiration for his newest statue. he needs to perfect the expression of agony on jesus's face as he's dying. jongin is a homeless poet that is willing to model for kyungsoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	inultus (unpunished)

**Author's Note:**

> inultus.  
> inspired by zeyer's three legends about the crucifix

creation and destruction are similar - at least in the way that destruction is often a form of creation. this is a poet's way of thinking. the artist thinks differently - often, creation is similar to destruction. often, to create something new, you have to destroy something else. that is how kyungsoo sees the world.

the city of prague is ancient, with dirty winters and dusty summers. kyungsoo decides to stay the winter. he's more interested in the dirt than the dust and hates the heat. he rents out an apartment near peace square and watches his neighbors from his window during sleepless nights. under the bright orange light of the street lamp everything looks fake. he watches ash fall from his cigarette down onto the ground eight stories below. sometimes people pass by and look at him. perhaps they're not looking at him but it seems like that from where he stands. they lift their hand to cover their eyes, shy away from the blinding orange light and disappear. snow and ash look similar under this light.

sometimes he wishes he could paint as to make this image last. yet time keeps running and the snowflakes keep falling and the people keep shying away from the bright light of the lamp.

  
he goes outside often. the people that pass him by seem different from the people he sees from his window at night. they're almost ghastly, hurrying past him. from peace square it's easy to get to wencelas square, to the national museum and it's not far away from the charles bridge either. he likes to walk all the way there.

there are beautiful statues on the bridge. some of them are so old that their features have almost faded away. the years of rain and wind have taken a toll on them. the bridge is always crowded with people, except for the rare days when it's closed for filming. he still ventures out every day just to look at the statues.

he always stops at one. it's called 'the crucifix and cavalry'. it's always interested him the most - not because he feels it's that good but because of the exact opposite. every time he looks at it he feels dissatisfied.

it is supposed to be the final moment of jesus christ, his final moment of agony. yet the statue remains soulless. its face is mellow, devoid of expression.

when he goes home he tries to recreate it. not create the same thing, he tries to fix it, tries to create a better version of it, one that would encompass the feeling of carrying all of humanity's sin. there's a soft plastic in the living room instead of a carpet and on it there's the clay he tries to shape perfectly. every day he returns from the charles bridge dissatisfied and tries to fix what he'd seen but each time he only recreates the same soulless expression.

  
kyungsoo doesn't stop trying. he's dedicated to finish his work before winter ends. and so he goes out again and again, to watch the imperfect statue. the weather changes and the people change too but the statue remains. it's still so lifeless, so ugly.

it's a tuesday when he finds jongin. he doesn't find him per se: jongin appears. it's no surprise to him that his view of 'the crucifix and cavalry' is sometimes obscured by annoying tourists or overly loud bands. usually though they go away sooner or later and he can still study the statue in peace. jongin doesn't. of course, at first, kyungsoo doesn't know who jongin is. and especially doesn't know his name. he doesn't really care about his name much.

what he cares about is that this boy has been in front of the statue all day. from circa 12:30 when kyungsoo arrived into the late evening hours he was there. a junkie from the looks of it, probably homeless or just trying to get money to buy drugs. he put a small bucket on the ground, upside down and was sitting on it.

kyungsoo cares that this boy is still sitting on it hours later. not many people have stopped by to give him money since kyungsoo arrived but he doesn't seem bothered. it's getting dark outside. the boy takes out a small notepad and a beautiful silver pen, jotting something down quickly. one of the lamps above them lights up slowly. the boy squints and keeps writing, still sitting on his makeshift chair. 'the crucifix and cavalry' is right behind him. it's still visible but the boy's shaking hands are too distracting. looking from the statue to the boy, kyungsoo feels strange.

he approaches the boy.

'what's your name?' kyungsoo asks.

the boy doesn't answer. he simply looks up from his notepad and quickly closes it as if worried about what kyungsoo could see in there.

'okay. i don't really care much anyways. but i need you to move to a different place here, i'm even willing to pay you,' kyungsoo goes on.

the boy looks mildly interested. he smiles and bites his lip.

'i can't, sorry,' he says.

'yes you can,' kyungsoo pulls out a few hundred crowns from his wallet.  


'if i'm not here someone else will take this place from me.'

  
kyungsoo ends up leaving that day without being able to properly examine the statue. his fingers are not shaking as he attempts to express once again what he has in his mind. this time the figure's features are soft, almost glowing. it's with a deep sigh that kyungsoo shapes the clay into a ball again, leaving it in a bag for later use. it doesn't satisfy him.

  
what he dreams of is jesus in all of his agony. it's a wonderful sight - so tragically romantic. deeply realistic, a naturalistic description of his pain but instead of words there is only the sight itself. he dreams of a tall hill with three crosses on it. he dreams of the wind blowing slightly, not enough to relieve the hotness on christ's face. his body is heaving, his ribs swallowed up by the bag that is his skin. blood still wet but drying slowly on his majestic face, torn up in the most exquisite pain.

when kyungsoo wakes up he can only remember the feeling of it, the atmosphere, but his mind is left helplessly struggling to find any memory of the expression on christ's face in his final moments on the cross.

and so again he steps out of his house, wrapped up in a warm coat and a thick scarf. the winter is starkly sharp today, biting harshly into his bare hands as he shuffles his playlist.

the bridge is feeling more desolate today - there are still some tourists but as it is supposed to be the coldest day of the year today most people have decided to stay indoors. kyungsoo is hoping for a nice clear view of the statue, a new interesting perspective that might uncover the secrets of the crucifix to him.

when he reaches the crucifix and cavalry the boy from yesterday is still there. this time he doesn't have his hands outstretched, begging for money. no, this time around he's huddled in between saint mary and jesus himself, looking small and dangerously like he might fall back into the cold waters of vltava any moment. his hands are also bare and he's only wearing a vest over his dark hoodie. he doesn't seem to be awake. like this he sort of looks like he's part of the statuary too. his lips are trembling, purplish color. he looks as if he's on the verge of death.

kyungsoo is fascinated. he comes up to the boy and takes one of his hands firmly into his own so that the boy won't fall back into the water on accident if he's startled.

'wake up,' kyungsoo commands in slightly accented czech.

'i'm not asleep,' is the response, but the boy doesn't open his eyes. his sentence is barely heard, his lips almost do not move at all. the hand in kyungsoo's is startlingly cold.

'do you plan to freeze to death here?'

  
kyungsoo and the boy - jongin, as he's told - end up in a mcdonald's near the end of the bridge. kyungsoo orders coffee for himself and fries for jongin. he doesn't have much money to spare - especially not to spend on random people he finds on the street. the mcdonald's is nearly empty spare for a few japanese tourists in the furthest corner and a couple of presumably ukranian young girls laughing loudly about immigration and something to do with cats.

jongin doesn't thank him - he simply eats what he is given, without nearly a word. when kyungsoo asks jongin what he's doing on the street, jongin thinks for a while, sitting up straight.

'i let god decide my fate.'

it's ridiculous, kyungsoo thinks and almost laughs, but stifles it in his throat. how does this boy say he just let god decide his fate when he almost froze to death in the snow outside. yet despite the ridiculousness of the answer, he finds himself fascinated.

'so you believe in god?'

'i do.'

jongin leaves it at that. he doesn't start ranting about god's greatness nor does he start a philosophical debate or a heartfelt story about his path to find god's love. he simply smiles and pulls out his notepad, scribbling something down again.

'can i see?' kyungsoo asks.

jongin shrugs and shows him the notepad. kyungsoo only recognizes about half of these words. sometimes the writing is too untidy for him to read but sometimes the words are completely new to him. of course kyungsoo doesn't know czech all that well yet.

'are you a... writer?' kyungsoo struggles to remember the correct word.

'not really. people would call me a básník.'

'bachelor?'

'básník. poet. a person who writes poetry. you don't speak czech?' jongin asks.

'only a bit. i'm here just for the winter,' kyungsoo answers. he's still not sure what a poet is but he doesn't care to ask.

'ah, so even the one to save me was a foreigner. god is really laughing at me this time around,' jongin mumbles bitterly.

'i could have just left you there,' kyungsoo shrugs.

'it's fine. maybe it's a sign. it's not as if my mother was born here either. after all our country of birth and our nationality can be very different.'

kyungsoo doesn't really understand what jongin is talking about then. suddenly jongin starts saying things about the czech nation, about nationality, about patriotism and about pride and prejudice. kyungsoo's not sure about half of the words he hears, they sound foreign to him, half czech and half latin.

'i don't care,' kyungsoo interferes.

'i don't care but if you don't want to freeze you can come with me now,' kyungsoo continues.

jongin looks at him, a bit startled, his eyes losing their light. he nods and stands up, putting the tray with cold coffee in a stand.

  
jongin doesn't ask what the thing on his floor is. he seems to recognize it immediately.

'you're recreating the crucifix from charles bridge right?'

kyungsoo turns around and nods.

there is indeed a wooden frame with a human shaped clay statue on it. the only thing that's missing is the head.

'why doesn't he have a head?' jongin asks.

kyungsoo is annoyed. he thinks about just letting jongin go his own way but remembers the crucifix and cavalry. somehow it makes him let jongin stay.

'i can't find the perfect expression.'

'haven't you tried having someone model for you?' jongin inquires, getting way too close to the statue.

'nobody is that good at acting. i need realism,' kyungsoo answers.

'why acting. you need someone to be in agony for this to work right? you need a model,' jongin turns his head to kyungsoo. 'let me model for you.'

  
kyungsoo stops going to the charles bridge. it's no longer necessary for him. he starts sleeping well again. there's a lot that has changed. the snow is melting slowly and spring is knocking on his door.

what has changed the most is his apartment. in exchange for shelter, jongin models for kyungsoo now - that means that instead of kyungsoo's mattress being mostly empty and tidy, there's jongin there, sleeping most of the time. he doesn't seem to like being awake. the boy's hands are cold at night when he accidentally brushes them against kyungsoo in his sleep.

when it gets to around three in the afternoon, jongin gets out of bed. he will undress as if it's nothing and come to the living room where a cross, reaching nearly to the ceiling, is now standing. it's a heavy one, made of wood and carefully attached to the floor and ceiling as for it not to fall. kyungsoo helps him up and ties him to the cross, tightening the ropes so much that they almost stop the blood from flowing. it always is complicated, making sure that the ropes are tight enough, that it's the right position. thankfully jongin is very malnourished so the cross holds him quite easily.

whenever he's at the cross like this, he looks different. his eyes turn upwards, a strange absent-minded look in them now. he seems to be in a trance, only disturbed from it when kyungsoo comes closer to tighten one of the ropes a bit more. each time kyungsoo does this, jongin only inhales deeply and hisses. he never says a word though, his expression becoming more pained each time.

kyungsoo is finally satisfied and starts working on the statue again, this time erasing all of his progress and starting from scratch. he begins by shaping the body, protruding ribs, sharp jawline and thin legs. he switches between looking at jongin's form, heavily breathing, head leaning against his chest and correcting details. when jongin's breaths slow down and he looks like he might fall asleep or faint any moment, kyungsoo stops, going to untie jongin.

jongin falls from the cross then, onto kyungsoo's chest, with no restraint, looking half dead and half satisfied. it's a strange state he's in then and kyungsoo takes him to bed, brings him water and something to eat and although jongin declines, kyungsoo still makes him drink some water and take a bite of something nutritious. if jongin dies now kyungsoo won't be able to finish the statue. jongin then falls asleep and stays that way until late morning.

in general jongin doesn't seem to like much or to do much. in the rare moments that he's not tied to the cross or sleeping, kyungsoo spots him taking notes in the small notepad he carries everywhere. it probably has something to do with him being a poet.

kyungsoo doesn't ask to see his poetry because he probably wouldn't understand half of it anyways. when kyungsoo leaves the apartment for some business he doesn't let jongin stay. whenever kyungsoo's going out, jongin has to pack up his things and wait somewhere outside. people look at jongin weird, kyungsoo's neighbors are all rich and famous and there's a young man sleeping in front of the apartment door sometimes.

  
days turn to weeks. birds return to prague and spring arrives. it's only a matter of time until it's official. there's only two weeks left until kyungsoo has to leave prague. he's more urgent in his work now, angrier, waking up jongin forcefully in the morning and telling him to undress, giving him orders, hastily, quickly shaping what's left. the ropes get tighter and tighter, kyungsoo makes a thorn crown out of some bush that has started to bloom outside of their house. the petals from the flowers are browning now, having gone too long without water. jongin looks beautiful, panting heavily, flowers adorning his head, beads of blood where kyungsoo stabbed the thorns into his head too hard.

their neighbors knocked yesterday, worried because kyungsoo hasn't left his apartment for two weeks already. he says he's fine. if they notice something strange, they don't say anything.

this time, jongin is on the cross again, a thin trail of blood streaming down from his forehead. his legs are crossed and tied just like usual but the atmosphere is different today. he's breathing heavily, but not as if he's in unbearable pain. he seems sensitive and there's a slight smile on his face as he bites one of his lips, looking straight at kyungsoo through hooded eyes.

kyungsoo recognizes the expression. he sees it for what it is and he should either be disgusted or aroused. he's indifferent though.

maybe a bit curious.

he approaches jongin. his thighs are trembling slightly.

'you're hard,' kyungsoo notes.

'sorry,' jongin whispers.

kyungsoo tentatively holds a hand near jongin's face. jongin doesn't move at all. he's staying still, as if he's scared. his breaths are shaky and hot. kyungsoo slowly touches jongin's cheek, with one finger, smudging the trail of blood. he takes the thumb to jongin's mouth, smearing blood over his lips.

as if worried that it might scare kyungsoo away, jongin slightly opens his lips, unsure. kyungsoo pushes the thumb over the rim of jongin's lips into his mouth. jongin exhales, sucking in the thumb. his eyes close and his breath hitches with each time kyungsoo moves the finger in his mouth.

'you look pretty. why are you pretty?' kyungsoo wonders against jongin's skin.

'i'm pure... ah...' jongin moans, completely distracted sucking on kyungsoo's thumb.

'you don't look pure right now,' kyungsoo notes, taking the thumb away from jongin, wiping it against his trousers.

kyungsoo is lying. jongin looks pure, natural, untainted. he looks as if this is what every human being should feel at a moment like this, he looks like a divine being. kyungsoo doesn't like it.

kyungsoo wants him tainted, pained, in agony.

kyungsoo puts one of his hands on jongin's chest. it's heaving, hot, a healthy heart thumping against kyunsoo's palm.

'please,' jongin begs. there's no power to it, no real demand. only a simple word.

kyungsoo drags his nails across jongin's chest until he gets to his lower belly, getting on his knees. he sees jongin's cock in front of him. it's pink and soft but as soon as he touches it he can feel it hardening. jongin doesn't say a word, only moans sweetly. almost as if he's in pain right now. kyungsoo lazily strokes his fingers over the hardening penis. it doesn't feel like anything else, a bit strange but mostly satisfying, having this much control over someone.

'kurva,'jongin hums and kyungsoo has no idea what it means. it doesn't really matter. he's not gonna be staying here for long.

kyungsoo kisses his cock. he does it slowly, as one would kiss a lover. he drags his lips against it and slowly sucks the head in, swirling his tongue around it, gripping at jongin's ass, only hearing jongin's loud moans and sighs from above. he grabs at jongin's ass properly, spreading the cheeks and then pushing them together harshly. he pulls away from jongin's cock.

he looks up.

there's an utter bliss on the younger man's face. he is now tearful and happy, his soft glowing cheeks and an eye smile making kyungsoo want to throw up.

disgusting.

disgusting.

kyungsoo wipes his mouth with his sleeve and steps away, back to his work. he's trying to shape the face now.

he looks at jongin.

jongin still has that blissful expression on his face. rage burns within kyungsoo's stomach. useless. this is useless.

he feels the need to destroy the statue, to burn it, start anew, with a new model, this one proving wrong useless. this is not the agony kyungsoo needs. this is.

this is.

this is.

kyungsoo takes the palette knife from his table.

this is.

this is.

he approaches jongin slowly.

the boy doesn't seem to suspect anything.

this is.

  
kyungsoo finishes the statue perfectly. the face is finally up to par with his imagination. he sells it to a local museum and flies back to south korea. his hands feel clean.

 

two weeks after kyungsoo has left a body is discovered, tied to a cross, in one of the apartments near peace square. the boy is identified as kim jongin, a homeless man in his twenties. he seems to be malnourished. newspapers make a big show of the murder, a scandal. there are photos everywhere over the internet, with quotes from pathologists underneath.

'He must have been bleeding out for a long time. It seems the blunt knife was shoved in his intestines and then shuffled around, but not taken out, as to prevent immediate bleeding out.'

  
kyungsoo's hands aren't clean.


End file.
